


The Best Laid Plans

by Alys_Brauer



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: And general cracktastic fluff, College AU, Fluff, Learning Disabilities, M/M, Multi, boffinshield - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 08:55:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6111448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alys_Brauer/pseuds/Alys_Brauer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was supposed to be a fun semester, all of them in most of the same classes, easy study time, keep each other motivated…but there was that thing about the best laid plans that Bofur hadn’t counted on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Laid Plans

Isn’t there a saying about the best laid plans? Bofur taps his pen on the stacks of papers in front of him, staring blankly at the words before him. He could ask Bilbo, but that would be inviting a lecture on idioms versus colloquialisms versus proverbs, and he’s fairly certain he’ll strangle his dear, dear roommate if he starts off on _that_ particular tangent. He’s already heard it three times and he’s no closer understanding half of the words that come out of Bilbo’s mouth.

At the beginning of term he’d never have guessed that things would come to this. It had been Thorin’s idea. Take some of the same breadth courses so they could all study together - History and English for him and Thorin, and some basic calculus for Bilbo. It was supposed to be a fun semester, all of them in most of the same classes, easy study time, keep each other motivated…but there was that thing about plans that Bofur hadn’t counted on. That…and the fact that Bilbo’s enthusiasm for English and History seemed to have landed them all in the hardest classes possible given they were entry level.

It was supposed to be fun, but then of course there were the exams.

Bofur wasn’t expecting to do well, he and words didn’t get along great, and really he just wants to pass. Of course taking courses with his roommates meant studying together which meant-

“46?!?”

Bofur winces as Bilbo’s voice reaches decibels he’s fairly certain shouldn’t be possible within the human voice range.

 “How? How did this happen? I don’t- Bofur? What happened. We studied together. You, me and Thorin. We studied. Here, right here.”  Bilbo babbles on, staring incredulously between the paper in front of him, and Bofur lounging on his chair, arm slung over the back of it.

“Don’t rightly know,” Bofur mumbles, and then grins. “But I got a 52 on the first test, a 49 on the first assignment, and a 50 on the second test, so I should still be able t’ pass right? Jest gotta finish up this paper and get a 50 or so on the final and I should be good.”

Now both Bilbo _and_ Thorin are staring at him with open mouths, and Bofur knows that look, he’s tired of getting that look. He’s been getting that look most of his life.

“Bofur…you have a ridiculous average. I am fairly certain you are getting 100 in our calculus course and pretty close to that in your physics course. How is it even possible that-?”

“Pass? You just want to pass?” Bilbo cuts through Thorin, and all Bofur can do is grin, roll his eyes and shrug.

“I need t’ pass in order t’ get the credit. No other reason I’m takin this fuckin’ course. Now can we get back t’ studying please? I’d really like t’ avoid retakin this thing. Don’t think I could take the headaches a second time ‘round.”

And that, of course, lead them to…here.

“Bofur.” Bilbo’s using his too patient voice. Bofur’s learned to recognize it through much more amusing incidents. His favorite was the time he’d ‘borrowed’ Bilbo’s laptop and filled the entire thing with porn.

Raising his eyes, Bofur lifts an eyebrow. “Yes my heart?” he purrs. “My darling, my brilliant one?”

There is no amusement in Bilbo’s eyes. His mouth is set into a thin line. “Are you even reading my notes?”

The pen stops tapping and Bofur glances down at the papers in front of him, trying to get his eyes to focus on the neat writing across the lined page. “These notes?” he asks, lifting his eyes again and trying to flash his most charming smile. “Was that what I was supposed t’ be doin with these? I just thought they were a nice drum pad. Don’t yeh think they make a nice sound?”

Oh, oh he is in trouble. He can see it in the set of Bilbo’s jaw, the slight twitch in the corner of one eye, and in the jerking of his fingers. Bofur tries widening his smile, and would have batted his eyes if he thought it would do any good.

“Why did you even ask for my help if you weren’t going to take it?” The irritation is bleeding through. Bilbo’s words are sharp, and they make Bofur wince again.

His pen resumes its drumming even as his eyes turn down to look at Bilbo’s neat writing. Every time he tries to focus on the words, they seem to dance before his eyes, the words blurring, letters rearranging in a way that only gives him a headache.

There’s a reason he’s avoided doing this for the entire semester.

“I’m tryin’ Bilbo,” he grinds out, throwing the pen down on the table with a disgusted growl. “Fuck it I’m tryin’ and it’s not workin’ all right?”

Bofur’s eyes flash up to see Thorin hovering in the doorway, frowning, his eyes flashing between him and Bilbo.

Sighing, Bofur stands up and run his hands through his hair, turning around on the spot, ready to start screaming and never stop. With another growl, he throws himself back down into his seat, jaw clenching and unclenching. “I need a break,” he grits out. Lifting his eyes to meet Bilbo’s he tries to soften his expression, to push back the frustration again, to find that place of nonchalance that he usually sinks himself into when it gets to this point. “I need a break okay? Just give me a fucking break.”

Thorin coughs from the doorway again. “I brought you this,” he offers, holding out book.

For a moment Bofur is about to swear at Thorin, the last thing he wants is another fucking book! But then he takes a closer look, and a smile blossoms. “I love you!” Bofur jumps up and cups Thorin’s face in his hands and plants a kiss square on his lips. “I am yehrs fehr eternity! Anything you ask it’s yehrs. My heart, my soul, everythin!”

Taking the book, Bofur sits in his chair once more, grabbing his pen eagerly this time and flipping it open.

He can feel Bilbo staring at him. Bofur doesn’t even need to look up over the top of his puzzles to see Bilbo’s narrowed eye squint. Completely ignoring his ‘tutor’, Bofur pours over the puzzle book, looking for a difficult one.

“Are you relaxing by doing math?”

This time he does look up, the end of his pen between his teeth. “I’m tryin’ t’.”

“Who the hell takes a break from studying to do math?”

Ah! There it is.

Bofur scribbles down some numbers before looking up at Bilbo again. “Numbers make sense,” he informs Bilbo, rather calmly he thinks. “Unlike this fucking shit.” He gestures in disgust at the pile of books and notes spread out on the table in front of them. “Numbers have the good sense t’ stay where they’re supposed to. Words are the enemy Bilbo, words do weird shit, numbers don’t.”

Once again Bofur turns back to his puzzle, scribbling away. The puzzle isn’t that hard, which is unfortunate, because it means that when he looks back up, Bilbo is still looking at him with his head cocked to the side, a contemplative look in his eyes.

“Yes,” Bofur sighs, putting the puzzle book aside. “Very good dear, yeh’ve got me all figured. Can we get back t’ me passin this God forsaken course?”

“You could get a proper tutor you know. Extra time for the test.”

And this is exactly why he didn’t want to actually say anything. He’s had the whole talk before, from more than one person. But he’s not stupid, he’s not. He can do this, on his own, or at least the regular way. He’s just got to study and pass. Pass. He’s not asking for any kind of miracle, just to pass.

Shaking his head, he combs his fingers through his hair again. “Never been officially diagnosed. Don’t want t’ be. Back t’ this now?” He taps the notes in front of him.

Bilbo shakes his head, but at least he doesn’t push it. He doesn’t try to give him the same speech.

Bofur loves him a little more for it.

It doesn’t make it any easier though. English. He should have taken an easier course than fucking English. He gets frustrated, and Bilbo gets exasperated, and Thorin has disappeared completely after his tentative peace offering of the puzzle book.

“That’s it!” Bilbo throws his hands up in the air and pushes back from the table. “That’s it. That’s all. We’re done.”

“Thank fucking God!” Throwing his pen down, Bofur watches it hit the table and bounce off to who knows where. “I was about t’ throttle yeh. Fuck yeh’re a hard ass.”

“Well maybe if you actually _listened_ to what I was saying it would actually help.” Bilbo retorts waspishly.

“Yeh said we were done! Yeh can stop bein an ass now.” Pushing back from the table, Bofur turns away.

He locates Thorin in the living room, the television on, the volume low, probably trying to make sure he didn’t disturb them while trying to drown them out at the same time. Smiling softly, Bofur flops down onto the couch with a grateful moan. Wriggling until his head is in Thorin’s lap, Bofur hums and closes his eyes when Thorin starts to stroke his hair. “Sorry darlin,” he says softly. “didn’t mean t’ make yeh uncomfortable.”

“I have never actually seen you angry before. And you two shouting at each other…It was not comfortable. I almost left, but I was scared I would come back to find one of you dead.”

There’s a weak chuckle from the doorway, and Bilbo comes to join them on the couch, lifting Bofur’s feet into his lap. “It was a way to work things out.”

“Mmmm,” Bofur hums non-committally. None of his frustration was feigned. He hated it. He hated getting that upset over something as simple as reading and trying to put his thoughts down on paper. Thorin had said it before, he was supposed to be smart, and Bofur has always prided himself on his easy going nature, his ability to shrug things off. This…this thing with his brain playing with words, it was one of the few things that he couldn’t shake off, not entirely.

“I ordered pizza,” Thorin offers helpfully. “And cake boss is about to come on.”

Bofur opens his eyes and shifts, turning so he can see the tv better. Thorin’s fingers don’t stop, and Bilbo seems content to act as a foot rest for the time being. “Oh good I hope it’s a new episode.”

“Oh that reminds me. Before we start studying tomorrow we should go and get snacks from that bakery down the way. We’ll all need something to keep our strength up.”

He whines. There’s no other word for it.

“You’re doing this again tomorrow?” The horror in Thorin’s voice is completely unfeigned, and not at all exaggerated.

Bofur can’t really blame him.

With a whimper, Bofur turns his head back, burrowing into Thorin’s stomach as his whine draws out, long, thin, and utterly pathetic.

 


End file.
